sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm

by Siren's Song (lit)

  "She left me," Forester’s mad screech echoed across the courtyard, "To go to him. Thereby making me a bastard and a man unable to inherit the title."

  Jamie heard the pain in his voice, and for a moment felt true pity, "No, she did not leave you. She gave birth to you in the same bed in which I was born. You were kidnapped, taken from our home in the dead of night when most of the clan was away tracking down raiders. My father had accepted you as his own, and would have come after you, but was warned that the wrath of England would come down on us if he tried to take you. It was so soon after Culluden that he didn’t question it. They were afraid to fight your father. He is a powerful man."

  "You lie!" Forester’s sword sliced silently through the air. "You damnable Scottish animal."

  Anger flashed through Jamie like a forest fire. "You were born on Highland soil, what does that make you?"

  Forester’s scream echoed once more through the courtyard, "No! My father is English, and so was Mother, before she sullied herself." His sword whipped through the air with such force it smashed loudly against Jamie’s.

  Jamie held it high, forcing the blades to stay together, circling until he loosened Forester’s hold, and it clattered to the ground.

  "Scottish bastard!"

  Jamie waited patiently. "I am not the bastard."

  Forester leaned over and picked up his sword, then took a deep breath. He could barely stand, and both shoulders slumped. Yet, he turned to face Jamie again.

  Jamie’s blade circled as he advanced, "And who told you that she ran from you? Who poisoned your mind? The man that brutally raped her, and who terrified her so much she ran from him?"

  Forester gasped.

  "You murdered a woman that loved you and mourned your loss her entire life. You’re own mother, man! You deserve to die. You’ve wreaked havoc on my family because of your childish grudge. You may have been born of my mother, but that blood has long since dried up. There’s nothing left except a pathetic shell, pretending to be a man."

  Jamie sliced again, his blade cutting through the waistcoat to rest at his heart. Forester’s eyes widened. His sword fell from his fingers clattering against the cobblestones.

  Forester’s breath came in gasps, but he stood silent, not begging for mercy, or expecting any. He simply looked into Jamie’s eyes.

  Jamie gazed back, then looked deep into his own soul. His own mother’s blood flowed through Forester’s veins. Hundreds of years of breeding, of clan discipline, and the belief in blood kin kept him from moving. Suddenly he realized he could not kill his own brother. The thought astonished him. He had waited for this moment half his life, he had dreamed of a thousand different ways that he would kill Forester. Now he hesitated.

  "My flesh and blood," he whispered. He slowly pulled back his blade, easing it from Forester’s chest slowly, understanding full well the mistake of leaving him alive. Was his destiny to forever be haunted by this man, and to fear each day, wondering if he might dream again of the barn?

  "I canna’ kill ye," Jamie’s brogue suddenly thickened, and he became nearly incoherent. He straightened, "I have wanted nothing more all these many years, but now I can not kill you. You are my brother."

  A blade appeared at his throat, and Jamie looked into the blue gray eyes of the fop.

  "Indeed, you shall not kill my friend, Monsieur. I have so few left, only he and the Marquis de Sade remain." the fop used his blade at Jamie’s neck to force him backward a few steps, then lowered his blade tip to the ground.

  Forester screamed, "I will wait no longer." He looked to the other men, "Kill him."

  Jamie turned. All three of Forester’s companions were racing toward him. Soon he was surrounded, "The odds were hardly favorable, Forester, but more to your liking. Are you not willing to join the fray, or do you only wish to watch?"

  Forester limped away. Blood oozed from his arms, his thighs, his chest, but he stood proudly and said nothing.

  Jamie jumped back, jerking the dagger from his belt, and stood in battle stance waiting for the attack.

  The other men advanced together, one on the right, one in the center and one on the left. The fop stood before him. Jamie gave a highland yell, which startled them for a moment.

  "You think me but a popinjay, Monsieur? Trust me when I say it will be a pleasure to prove otherwise."

  The man moved forward deftly, and with a short riposte engaged. Jamie parried, then jumped to the side, catching the man’s blade with his dagger, and pushing his sword high into the air. He hit him in the face with the hilt of his sword with such force that he fell to the ground. Blood spurted from his nose, and he became the second man to fall.

  The man with white hair attacked next. Jamie leapt sideways to avoid the lunge. He looked about him for more defensible ground, then turned and fended another thrust. He rushed past the white haired man to the center of the courtyard, where an old dry fountain stood quiet.

  He turned as two of the remaining men began to advance then realized that the third man with the eye-patch had disappeared. He jumped to the top of the base, and stood with his back against the tall spire in the center where he could see the third man sneaking around the floor of the fountain. Jamie leaped down in front of him and fell to his knee, lunged, and piercing the man’s thigh.

  Jamie jumped over the fountain wall, and faced the other two men. They joined forces and came at him together. The sounds of steel against steel again filled the courtyard, both men were excellent swordsmen, and Jamie was barely able to hold his own.

  Jamie fended one attack with his dagger only to parry with his blade. Then, suddenly, someone entered the fray. He was no longer alone. Laurent stood at his side blade in hand. He intercepted the next slice, attacking and forcing the man with white hair to the side.

  "Gentlemen, meet the best swordsman in France."

  One man’s eyebrow rose, "Perhaps, at one time, but just now I doubt his strength." The others laughed.

  Jamie glanced toward Laurent then silently agreed he hardly looked like a threat. His filthy shirt was torn from the bottom center to the collar. It clung to his back in ribbons, where the whip had ripped the flesh, and blood still oozed. One leg of his breeches hung raggedly at the knee. He had a black eye and a filthy rag covered the cut on his head. Considering the condition of his back Jamie was astonished that Laurent remained standing. Yet, Laurent continued to fight. Attacking, even as new blood oozed from his wounds.

  Laurent seemed not to notice as he tore into the fray, his expertise with the sword clearly evident in the first few strokes. He rushed forward slicing so forcefully that the man he attacked was immediately on the defensive, continually backing away, their blades clashing in loud bursts. Laurent took his time, slicing the man’s red jacket, then taking the buttons off one by one, until he bellowed with anger.

  Finally Laurent jumped down to one knee and lunged, his blade driving deep into his opponent’s thigh. He removed the blade slowly, and looked into his eyes. "Monsieur, I will give quarter if you will concede that today is not a good day for a fight." The man nodded then raised his sword in salute, and limped away.

  Jamie and the man with the scar continued the fight. Jamie was tiring, and his opponent realized his advantage. They moved back and forth, closer once more to the fountain. Then the man with the eye-patch, he had left at the fountain, limped toward him, helping in the engagement, "I’m surprised to see you back. Next time I won’t be so kind."

  "Forester is my commanding officer. I can do nothing less," Laurent again joined him. Jamie fought the man with the scar, against the wall of the Bastille across the courtyard. Laurent fought the man with the eye-patch. He soon heard the man begging for quarter then heard him begin to shuffle away.

  "Cowards!"

  Jamie heard Forester’s insane scream. He turned to see Laurent intercepting Foresters race toward him.

  Then Scar engaged Jamie so forcefully he was forced to back away. His blade swooped downward in such a rush Jamie barely
had time to stop its slide into his leg. He parried, and the fight continued furiously. The sounds of the clash echoed in his ears. The man was much better than his companions. Frustrated, Jamie suddenly fought back with fury. Jamie heard Laurent behind him and shouted, but his words were lost in echo of the steel.

  "Don’t kill him, he is mine to dispatch if he will not surrender!"

  Laurent moved forward to intercept Forester, "Remember me?"

  "Indeed, how could I forget, since you thwarted my revenge, I have much to remember," Forester fought with renewed strength. He rushed forward and sliced through the air with his sword in a huge downward circle. Laurent met his attack with equal fervor, the sound of the clash of steel ringing loudly in the morning air.

  "I have a score to settle with you as well. I do not find it amusing that you took the prey from my trap all those years ago."

  Laurent’s eyebrow rose, "Indeed. I understand you were quite a help to my uncle in his latest plan. Shall we?" He moved forward and engaged once more. Each man fought with the confidence that only comes from training, blade crashing against blade, moving forward a step, then backward, until Laurent began to gain the advantage. Finally he made a hit, and Forester’s arm began to bleed afresh.

  "You seem to favor the color red, Monsieur," Laurent smiled.

  "And you seem to thrive on the perverse pleasure of pain. Your back avowals it."

  Fury coursed through him, and Laurent thrust his sword deep into Foresters thigh, then laughed, "On the contrary, I believe it is you that enjoy pain, Monsieur."

  Across the courtyard, the last man facing Jamie was no match for his strength. Jamie fought furiously, in his hurry to get to Laurent. He sliced the man’s wrist, then stabbed his thigh, but he continued to fight, and Jamie began to lose patience as he heard the fight ensuing between Laurent and Forester. One more lunge through the upper arm, and the man’s sword dropped to the ground.

  "I suggest to you, Sir, that you are interfering in a private matter. Perhaps it is time for you to return to your quarters."

  The man nodded. He looked around the courtyard to find his other friends had decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "As you say, Monsieur, a private matter," he stood and limped away.

  Jamie rushed toward them, "I cannot allow this Laurent. He is mine to dispatch. I should have done so earlier."

  Laurent laughed, "I can’t let you have all the fun, Jamie. No, the man claims to have a score to settle with us both, so be it." His voice suddenly became harsh and unforgiving.

  "Jamie! Jamie boy," Jamie turned at the weak cry then raced toward Alec. Jamie bent on one knee then cradled Alec’s head in his arm. "I’m here Alec, but I must go to Laurent. Can you hold on a few minutes longer?"

  "Aye, but don’t leave yer father’s claymore, Jamie."

  Jamie put Gourville’s sword in his belt, then leaned down to pick up the sword. Alec groaned from the pain.

  "It will save your life. Finish it this time, finish it," Alec groaned then lay back against the cobblestones.

  Jamie rushed across the courtyard, watching the fight between Laurent and Forester as he went. Laurent had the upper hand.

  "Jamie!"

  His head jerked upward. Nicolette came racing toward him. "Stay there!" he shouted. When she continued running toward him, he opened one arm, and she raced to him.

  Laurent turned his head at the sound of her voice, and stumbled. When Jamie looked up Forester had slammed the sword from Laurent’s hand, and laughed. His sword was pressed against Laurent’s throat. He took a pistol from his belt, pointing it at Laurent’s chest. "I will be with you soon, MacQueen, and then I will celebrate with your woman."

  Jamie started to pull a pistol from his belt, but it was missing, lost in the fight. He pushed Nicolette away then ran toward them, "Forester! This is between us!" He roared across the courtyard like an angry lion, "It isn’t over."

  Forester turned at the voice. "I avenge all wrongs done me, but fear not for I shall finish you next." He laughed, the maniacal sound piercing the silence.

  Jamie reached for the claymore, tossing it through the air with all his strength. As if time stood still, he could clearly hear the sound of the blade cutting through the air, then watched as it pierced Forester’s chest. Forester’s sword fell from his hands, and the pistol jerked upward discharging into the air, then clattered loudly on the cobblestones as he crumpled slowly to the ground. Shock covered his features as he gazed at Jamie. He screamed.

  Jamie glanced at Laurent, noting he was rising. He turned and looked at Nicolette, her face was stark white, and her body shook like a leaf.

  He walked to Forester and knelt beside him. Deep red blood oozed from Forester’s mouth, the claymore extended obscenely from his chest, and his white shirt was quickly soaked with his life’s blood.

  He bent nearer to hear Forester’s fading voice.

  "So brother, you win at last."

  "Indeed, a hollow victory won from a madman and the death of a brother. It could have been so very different," He felt nothing as he pulled the claymore from Forester’s body. There was nothing, not relief, no happiness, nor sadness, only numbness.

  Forester’s companions had all long since disappeared into the dimness of the dawn. In the end Forester faced Jamie alone, as decreed by fate.

  The pinks and purples of dawn were quickly giving way to a bright morning sun. Light streaked brightly across the early morning, as Forester died. Jamie almost felt the change, as his darkest fears seemed to change from darkness into light. Now and forever he could live in peace from the nightmare.

  He looked up to see Guards from the Bastille running toward them, finally aware of the fight outside their walls. Jamie pulled Nicolette to his side, wondering how much more fighting he would have to do this day.

  There was a clamor as several riders rode into the end of the courtyard, their hooves loud against the cobblestone, and echoing against the walls of the old fortress with Lafayette at the forefront. Jamie was more than a little relieved to see him arrive.

  He rode forward. His commanding voice echoed loud and clear. "This man was an enemy of France," pointing toward Forester. "These men were working under my orders. Now take his body away."

  The guardsmen saluted, then rushed to do as ordered.

  Suddenly Jamie felt free. He pulled Nicolette into his arms, and whispered. "It is over. Finally over."

  Meet Tonya Sue Harms

  Sue resides in St. Louis, MO, with her husband. She currently works for a large travel company and loves to travel. She has lived in Germany and Japan, and some of her favorite places to visit include Egypt, Athens, London and Paris. She enjoys babysitting her grandchildren, and of course, reading and writing romance.

  VISIT OUR WEBSITE

  FOR THE FULL INVENTORY

  OF QUALITY BOOKS:

  http://www.wings-press.com

  Quality trade paperbacks and downloads

  in multiple formats,

  in genres ranging from light romantic comedy

  to general fiction and horror. Wings has something

  for every reader’s taste.

  Visit the website, then bookmark it.

  We add new titles each month!